


collide the spaces that divide us

by skyestiel



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Attempt at Humor, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nostalgia, Post-Canon, garrison professor lance rights!!, parallels to krolia and keith's dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23861836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyestiel/pseuds/skyestiel
Summary: “Team leaders.” Keith repeats the phrase, haltingly, and looks to Lance.“Well, the leader and his right-hand man.”A smile softens Keith’s features. “I’ve always liked the sound of that. ‘The leader and his right-hand man.’”or: My piece for the post-canon klance zine,"...and we are beginning."
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 234





	collide the spaces that divide us

**Author's Note:**

> i finally have the opportunity to post my piece for this fabulous zine! it's been a while since i looked at it, but i remember hoping everyone would enjoy my interpretation of post-canon klance. the title is from the song ["superposition" by young the giant](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QxJhrwyn0M4)!! please remember to check out the link in my summary and give the project some love! some fantastic creators worked HARD on it! and thank you, again, for the chance to be part of this zine!! enjoy~

Lance will admit he broke several rules as a student.

Staying out after curfew, sneaking fellow cadets on and off Garrison property, sliding into his seat ten minutes late for morning lecture. Kidnapping the well-known Takashi Shirogane and disappearing into space. You know, insignificant stuff. 

But getting booted from the assistant professor program because of a  _ gum wrapper _ ?

Lance considers the metallic scrap in his pocket, which is, incidentally, the only piece of paper on him at the moment. He snags a pen from his breast pocket—a habit he’s been told he shares with Adam—and tugs off the cap. 

It’s been four years since the war officially ended, and Lance stands on the brink of becoming a professor. That’s right—a teacher.  _ Him. _ Instructing young Garrison cadets and doing his best to improve on Iverson’s questionable “teaching” techniques from his own time as a student.

After fiddling with the pen for a bit, he jots down a message and passes the note off to his partner in crime (or, more specifically, partner in misery): Keith.

Immediately following the events on Earth, Keith could hardly look Lance in the eye. He flew off into space with the Blade shortly after their final battle against Honerva, giving little to no indication as to when—or if—he’d ever be back. As a matter of fact, the first time Keith visited, Lance spent half of his stay struggling to grasp the fact that he was  _ alive _ and the other half trying to figure out why Keith chose to stick close to him, of all people.

Keith casts an exasperated look in Lance’s direction before unfolding the wrapper. His gaze skims over the short greeting Lance left for him. 

**_howdy partner :P_ **

Which, of course, earns Lance a frustrated sigh that’s just quiet enough to go unnoticed by the people around them. 

Without asking, Keith reaches over and steals Lance’s pen right out of his grasp. He flattens the crinkled paper against his thigh and begins scrawling his response. With his freakin’  _ tongue  _ poking out of his mouth. Because Lance’s life as a helplessly pining fool is still going strong, even years after his crush on Allura came and went. 

And  _ especially  _ strong since he developed feelings for the most stubborn hothead in the universe. 

What could possibly be worse than realizing how much he cares about someone who only deigns to drop in once every few months? Maybe it’s realizing he’s always had a soft spot for that someone. Or maybe realizing it’s yet another godawful crush that has lain dormant since he first witnessed that dreaded mullet pass a flight simulation with flying colors.

_ Ugh _ .

Keith slips the note through the slat in the armrest. Lance can hardly stifle a smirk as he pinches the note between his thumb and forefinger. He half-expected Keith to ignore his amazing—yes,  _ amazing _ —joke. 

Lance opens the wrapper.

**_are u bored too?_ **

A scoff slips out before Lance can silence himself. The assistant professor to his left flashes them a judgmental glare. It’s generally off-putting, but better than drawing the attention of the speaker, who continues droning on about… well, Lance isn’t totally sure. He stopped paying attention about twenty minutes ago, potentially thirty. Financial this, financial that.  _ Blah, blah, blah. _

Don’t get him wrong, the guest lecturers occasionally offer helpful advice, and plenty of retired officers have cool stories. This dude, though? Not so much. Let’s just say Lance now fully understands the meaning of the phrase, “like watching paint dry.”

Then, for some inexplicable reason, it hits him. Maybe it’s the mention of “transportation vehicles” he catches from up front or the blazing red pin on the guy’s lapel. 

Lance quickly sets to work writing out his next message and passes it on before he can second-guess himself or his brilliant thought process. He anxiously flicks his eyes between the speaker’s podium and Keith. The lavender curl of Keith’s scar and prominent line of his jaw are far more distracting than any middle-aged white dude spouting business nonsense could ever be.

In the second he glances at the lecturer, Lance is jabbed in the side by a pointy elbow. Wincing, he turns to Keith, a curse already on his lips. But Keith’s expression renders him speechless. 

A mischievous flicker dances behind those gray-violet eyes. Lance recognizes it from countless showcases of spontaneity. When Keith, brimming with excitement, loaded everyone onto his hoverbike that night in the desert and urged them to trust him. When Keith fought alongside Lance in combat and managed to save his life just in the knick of time. When Keith explained the details of a mission, specifically the risky action they would need to take to get the job done. 

Lance sucks in a quick breath. Keith makes these impromptu trips without ever explaining himself. To check up on his old teammates—that’s Lance’s theory, at least. Even if Keith would never admit it. With every visit, he lingers longer. Loitering in the back of lecture halls or the ship hangar, pacing in the training hall or outside of Lance’s room, fleeing before he can ever knock on his door.

If only he would’ve knocked, Lance might have mustered up the courage  _ sooner  _ or _ —  _

Well, anyway... Regardless of Keith’s peculiar behavior, it doesn’t change the fact that he could leave at any moment. He could vanish the minute this boring guy quits babbling, without so much as a simple ‘goodbye.’ 

Lance tries to hide how frazzled he is with a shrug. As if to say, “ _ What? I’m just curious if you kept the bike _ .”

“Of course I still have my bike,” Keith responds aloud, bluntly treading the line between a whisper and regular speaking tone. 

Lance presses a finger to his lips and aggressively shushes Keith. To his relief, no one else appears to have noticed. Even the assistant professor with bat-like hearing doesn’t flinch.

Keith has the nerve to  _ roll his eyes _ like a twelve-year-old boy, but lowers his voice when he speaks again. “Why did you ask? Are you… I mean, do you think we could…?”

_ Oh? _ Although Keith has mellowed out, he certainly hasn’t lost his spunk. 

Lance leans over the armrest, gum wrapper long forgotten. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

* * *

When Lance suggested a joyride through the desert, he foolishly figured he wouldn’t have to worry about his safety.

But Keith has plenty of surprises in store for him.

“Okay,” Lance calls out over the roar of the bike’s engine. “Is the ‘ever present threat of death’ part of the Kogane riding experience or have you always been trying to kill me?”

Keith swerves around a protruding rock and Lance squeaks, constricting his arms even tighter around Keith’s middle. The hoverbike’s left fan collides with a cactus in a satisfying burst of green and prickles. A nearby group of lizards scatter, barely avoiding the dangerous debris.

“Seriously?” Keith laughs, open-mouthed and unbridled. “Come on, Lance, you wanted fun. I’m just giving it to you.”

Fun.  _ Fun _ . Careening through the desert at breakneck speeds, destroying the local cactus population as well as themselves in the process—that’s what qualifies as “fun” in Keith’s book? Makes sense, actually.

Lance sneaks a peek over Keith’s shoulder as they approach another towering rock structure. “Granted, I  _ did  _ ask for this. But I’d rather come home in one piece.”

“That reminds me,” Keith yells. “Why did you wanna fly out here in the first place? I get that you were bored—everyone in that room was—but why my bike?”

“To be perfectly honest, man, I wanted to give this another shot. The whole riding through the desert thing? Preferably without the rest of the gang since—” Lance bites his tongue _. Real smooth _ . He’s going to lose his chance before Keith rushes off into space again on another Blade mission for months on end. “Since, you know, your noble steed comfortably seats two people, not the five we crammed onboard!”

Keith goes mute. The lack of a response sends Lance’s brain into a frantic tizzy. His leaden jaw struggles for a better, less incriminating explanation. “And in a less life-or-death sort of situation than that night.” Lance crowds closer to Keith as they hang a sharp left turn. “Although you’re flying like the Garrison is still chasing us.” 

Keith snorts and shakes his head. Fluttering strands of dark hair tickle the bridge of Lance’s nose, the apples of his cheeks, before he can lean away. Electricity trickles across his skin at the contact. 

“This is how I’ve always ridden,” Keith insists. “And if you want to blame anyone, blame Shiro. He taught me everything about this bike once my dad was gone.”

Lance digs his teeth into his bottom lip. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up your da—”

Keith abruptly twists the throttle and, by some miracle of physics, the bike zips faster through the arid landscape. Reflexively, Lance presses closer to Keith, as close as humanly possible, clinging on for dear life. 

The wind whipping through Lance’s hair, as well as the taste of desert air, remind him of his days as a cadet. Hazy memories of a recurring trip off the Garrison grounds in the evenings, to watch Keith weave through rock formations, entranced by the bright sheen of his hoverbike and streaks of sunset orange in the sky.

Every night after he finished spying, Lance dreamt of riding with Keith. A vision of his chest pressed against Keith’s back, both clad in their horrendous orange uniforms as they soared through the inky, indigo breath of twilight. 

And when he woke up, dreary and grasping at the threads of his dreams, he couldn’t figure out  _ why _ . Why did he want to be out there with Keith? Because he wanted to do something reckless, beyond his usual level of rebelliousness? 

Or did it have more to do with the person at the helm of the bike? 

“There it is,” Keith speaks up, voice a bit raspy. 

Rattled, Lance scans the horizon in search of whatever “it” is. And “it” just so happens to be a tiny wooden shack.

* * *

By some miracle _ ,  _ Keith’s conspiracy board survived abandonment. 

After all these years, the pictures and scribbled post-it notes remain unchanged. Held to the cork with pushpins and tape, joined by string hung with obvious intent. Even the map affixed to the center of the board has yet to crumble or lose the battle to discoloration. The dust cloud Keith produces as he cleans—and Lance’s uproarious sneezes—are the only real indication that any time has passed at all. 

Since Keith brushed off the dust, all they’ve done is…  _ stare  _ at the board. Other than some hasty house cleaning, they haven’t exchanged a word.

Lance practically jumps out of his skin when Keith addresses him. “It’s hard to believe, you know?”

“That your conspiracy board survived or…?” Lance flashes Keith a cheeky smile. 

“It’s  _ not  _ a conspiracy board,” Keith rebuffs with a sigh. “And no, not that. I meant it’s hard to believe we stood here, all those years ago, but barely knew each other.” 

Lance clears his throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it is pretty crazy.”

“We saw each other in passing, I guess. But we didn’t know about the Galra Empire or the war or  _ Voltron _ —” Keith scoffs. He takes a careful step closer to the board and reaches out, trailing his fingertips along the lines drawn on the map. 

Lance hesitantly follows Keith’s lead. He can’t bring himself to touch Keith’s hard work, though, instead burying his hands in his pockets. “We didn’t even know  _ aliens  _ existed.”

At his side, Keith chokes out a laugh. “I know, seriously. When I was searching in the desert, I never imagined there was a robotic lion out there calling to me. Or that it was designed by aliens. Or, God, that there were _four_ _more_ of them.” 

Lance mumbles, “I’m pretty sure little Lance would’ve thought I was insane if I told him he was gonna pilot a space lion.” Then, the realization dawns on him. “He definitely wouldn’t have believed that we would be the team leaders either.”

“Team leaders.” Keith repeats the phrase, haltingly, and looks to Lance.

“Well, the leader and his right-hand man.” 

A smile softens Keith’s features. “I’ve always liked the sound of that. ‘The leader and his right-hand man.’”

Blood pounds thunderously in Lance’s ears.  _ I have, too,  _ he nearly blurts. To this day, Lance longs for the rush he felt when piloting Red, knowing Keith was at the helm of the Black Lion. They were Voltron’s dynamic duo, the team’s co-leaders. 

“You know,” Keith murmurs, jarring Lance out of his thoughts. “I was thinking about it when I touched down in the Garrison hangar last night.” 

Lance teases with a snicker, “Be careful with that whole thinking thing. Wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself.”

Somehow, Keith softens further. His smile steals the air right out of Lance’s lungs. “You really haven’t changed, have you?”

Lance finds his gaze inevitably drawn to the scar on Keith’s cheek. The dark strands of hair coiled into a braid over Keith’s shoulder. Different and yet so very much the same, changing without actually changing. Seems like an oxymoron, but strangely fitting of the people they’ve become. Although they both bear wounds from the war, although their bodies and minds have matured, they’re still Keith and Lance at their cores. 

_ You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck. _

“So, uh, you said you were thinking. What were you thinking about exactly?” Lance fixes Keith with a half-hearted smirk. He can feel sweat beading on his forehead.

Keith scrutinizes him with a squint. “Right… well, I just think it’s crazy that we never had any idea what we were getting ourselves into when we flew out to the cave that night. We didn’t know what would happen when we climbed inside Blue, you know?”

Before Lance can comment, Keith returns his attention to the board. “It feels like it happened so long ago.” He smooths down the edges of a faded picture of the carvings on the cave walls, the outline of a crudely-drawn lion. “Sometimes I have trouble sleeping, and my brain starts throwing all these... scenarios at me.”

Secretly, Lance is glad he’s not the only one. He studies Keith’s profile, thrown into focus by the sun, casting shadows across his features.

“Like what if I  _ hadn’t _ looked into what was going on in the desert? What if you—I mean, if you, Hunk, and Pidge hadn’t gone out that night to investigate? If we…” Keith furrows his brows. “If we hadn’t crossed paths again.”

Nostalgia barrels into Lance like a derailed train. “We should go back there,” he blurts. “Us, I mean the two of—the two of us. Back to the cave.” 

Keith slants a look at Lance. “Wh—now? Tonight?”

“Well,” Lance drawls, his eyes flitting to the door where the hoverbike waits. “No time like the present, right?”

* * *

Lance never thought cave drawings would pull such a visceral reaction out of him.

Faintly glowing, even now, in the darkness. Not nearly as bright as when the two of them first set foot here as teenagers. Lance finds himself drawn in, as he did back then. The Blue Lion’s original home holds an unspeakable allure that Lance isn’t sure he'll ever comprehend.

On the opposite side of the cave, Keith approaches the archaic markings with similar interest. Passing his fingertips over the cold stone, tracing each curve and shape. The sight of Keith sharing in Lance’s deep-rooted memories grips his focus and refuses to let go.

“It looks… almost the same,” Lance points out with a hint of amusement. “You know, as the last time we were here.”

Keith glances over his shoulder at Lance. "I don’t know what I expected. I thought it’d look different, but the only thing I notice is the fading light. And, I mean, it hasn’t dimmed much since when my mom—”

Lance doesn’t have to look to hear the way Keith’s breath catches in his throat. A sharp intake that cuts through the relative silence like a knife. 

“Your… mom?” Lance steps back from the wall. “Wait—what do you mean?”

Quickly, Keith jerks his head away from Lance. “Well, when I was on the—the space whale, whatever you want to call it, I was shown some of my mom’s memories. Including how she met my dad.”

Lance finds himself drawn into Keith’s orbit, cautiously crossing the cave until he stands directly behind him. With every word out of Keith’s mouth, the muscles of his shoulders clench tighter and tighter. 

“They found the Blue Lion in the desert, too, before we ever did. And stood in front of the forcefield and…” Keith’s voice drifts off into silence. 

Compelled by Keith’s gravitational pull, Lance thinks about what it’d be like to reach out and touch him. To comfort him, to encourage him to open up for once. Subconsciously, Lance has always wanted to break down the barrier Keith created between his personal life and the outside world, much like the Blue Lion’s selective barrier. 

Keith chuckles and swivels to face Lance. “It’s funny, actually.”

_ Funny? _

“I mean—” Keith hesitates, licking his lips. “The lion, it uh. I guess it’s what brought my parents together.”

The pieces fall together almost immediately, turning the cogs in Lance’s brain.  _ It brought the two of us together, too _ .

“What?”

Lance stiffens. Oh quiznak—did he just say that out loud? 

“I said… it brought us to the lion, too?” Unfortunately, the condemning inflection in his voice is a dead giveaway. As if his burning cheeks weren’t obvious enough.

Keith’s expression contorts into something suspiciously neutral. An indifferent mask that Lance has no trouble seeing past. But rather than freak out or deny it or, heck, even go along with Lance’s ridiculous charade, Keith grins. 

“No, you’re right,” Keith confirms with a nod, “The lion brought us together. Just like it did my parents.”

Geez, he really went and said it. And like  _ that _ , too. Heat floods Lance’s face again, in a dizzying rush more disorienting than the last. 

Under the low lighting, tinged with blue, Lance strains to read Keith’s expression. This isn’t the deepest part of the cave where they initially discovered the lion. And yet Lance recalls Keith’s earlier comment about his parents, fingers intertwined as they gawked at the flickering barrier.

Keith seems to move in slow motion. One foot in front of the other, arms swinging at his sides. He stops a few scant inches away from Lance. In a daze, Lance realizes how close they’ve been all night. Seated together at the presentation, saddled on the back of Keith’s hoverbike, side-by-side in the middle of Keith’s old, musky living room. And now here. 

Yet this proximity feels far more intimate than it did at any other point since their reunion.

Lance’s curiosity—and, quite frankly, anxiety—get the better of him. “What else did you see?”

Keith cocks his head to the side. “What else did I…?”

“You know, while you were there with Krolia. On the whale or freaky space leviathan or whatever.”

The surrounding air grows heavy. Bearing down on Lance, forcing him to swallow around the lump suddenly lodged in his throat. Keith’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t skirt around the question.

“Well…” Keith pauses to hum under his breath. “I saw a lot, to be honest. Like us, returning to Earth as a team. The final battle. The moment you saw your family again and tripped over your own feet because you wanted to give your mom a hug—” 

“ _ You knew that I was gonna trip?”  _ Lance gasps, mock-affronted but with a hint of sincerity. “You knew that I was gonna trip but didn’t warn me. I face-planted! How  _ cruel _ .”

Keith lets out a sound bordering on a giggle, and Lance worries that his face has finally caught fire. That maybe his cheeks are smothered in literal  _ flames _ because he’s always been weak to this side of Keith. The amiable side Lance has always felt privileged to experience firsthand.

“There were some things, though, that were harder to live with. Knowing what’s going to happen in the future…”

“Kinda sucks sometimes?”

“Sometimes. It’s more like—it’s tough being skeptical about whether something will happen when you have no control over it.”

Lance creases his brow. “Oh? How so?”

A glint of something akin to fear flashes in Keith's eyes, fleeting before it disappears. It’s the first occasion tonight that he’s looked apprehensive, nervous—really and truly nervous. 

“I saw the two of us.” Keith blurts, glancing to the cave floor. “Here, standing in this cave. Just like we are now.”

Lance blinks slowly. The news gradually sinks in, the gravity of Keith’s words. Maybe the dank cave air or weight of unresolved tension has made Lance delirious. Keith is yanking his chain—right?

“Keith Kogane, you sly dog,” Lance drawls. “From the moment I asked about your bike, you  _ knew  _ we’d end up here.”

To Lance’s surprise, Keith scrunches his nose and shakes his head. “No, I… To be honest, I doubted it would actually happen.”

“Wait, really? Why?” Lance wants to place a hand on Keith’s hip but stops himself. “Did you, um. Were you not planning on any more Earth vacations in the future?”

Keith shakes his head harder. “No, no. I knew I’d be back at some point. I’m actually considering a guest lecturer position at the Garrison—”

_ What?! _

“—but I also just…”

Gingerly, Keith lifts his hand and cups Lance’s cheek. His palm is calloused from those atrocious fingerless gloves and decades of hand-to-hand combat. Even so, the skin contact is a welcome source of heat and comfort. Lance barely refrains from sagging against Keith, whose other hand joins shortly thereafter, framing Lance’s jaw in the protective cradle of his palms. Acting on pure instinct, Lance leans into the touch. He hadn’t realized how much he craved the feeling until this very moment. 

“Wh…” Lance parts his lips. Any attempt at a response fails him as he meets Keith’s piercing stare.  _ What are you doing?  _ He wants to ask Keith. Or,  _ Why would  _ you  _ ever want to touch  _ me?

Their height difference—or lack thereof—hasn’t felt relevant until now, as Keith tilts his chin up. The slight motion brings their lips closer, practically touching at this new and improved angle. 

“There was…” Keith’s gaze snaps to Lance’s lips. “A vision I seriously thought would  _ never  _ happen. Way more unbelievable than me standing in this cave again with you.”

Lance tenses, his heart racing. He already knows what it is. He knew the moment Keith strode across the cave and crept into his personal space. A part of Lance has known ever since Keith so readily agreed to venture out into the desert tonight, an agreement Lance had only ever dared to imagine in his wildest dreams. 

“It went something like this,” Keith breathes and eagerly tugs Lance down the inch or so that separates them, pressing a fiery kiss to his lips. 

Lance gasps, his heart beating against his ribcage like the fluttering, frantic wings of a trapped bird. Desperate to burst from his chest, adrenaline pumping through his veins. Helplessly, Lance moans into the kiss. He grips Keith’s waist with breathless urgency, pressing their bodies together in every place he’s physically capable. 

Memories come rushing to the surface. Maybe they’re drawn out by the smile Keith presses to Lance’s mouth. Or maybe the echo of each laugh interspersed between kisses, the unspoken sentiment of disbelief on both of their parts. 

Lance gets it. Even without discussing it yet—which Lance definitely plans on doing once he’s a little less, uh,  _ occupied _ —he understands. 

_ This visit isn’t meant to be a ‘goodbye’ or an ending.  _ Lance sinks into Keith’s embrace and seamlessly deepens the kiss.  _ It’s a beginning. _

**Author's Note:**

> thank you SO so much for reading!!!!
> 
> all comments, kudos and bookmarks are appreciated! come chat with me on any of these accounts: **[twitter](https://twitter.com/tobiologist), [tumblr](http://tobiologist.tumblr.com/)** or **[curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/tobiologist)**!!!!


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